


Sterek Drabbles September 2018

by Jmeelee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 13:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16159931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmeelee/pseuds/Jmeelee
Summary: 12 Drabbles based on the prompts from the tumblr blog SterekDrabbles





	Sterek Drabbles September 2018

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you Jessie and Smowkie for running sterekdrabbles! Love you guys and all the amazing authors who participate.

**Kit, Free, Prince** (9/3/2018)

“Let’s go dancing!” they said. “It’ll be fun!” they said. Well, Derek Hale was decidedly not having fun.

He watched the pack shimmy and sway to a Prince song, begrudgingly aware they needed the freedom to let loose, wishing he could remember ever feeling that young and carefree.

Erica appeared next to him, sipping something fruity. “I should have brought a sewing kit to mend that hole you’re eyes are burning through Stiles’ pants.”

Under the flashing disco lights, Stiles twitched and twerked his perky ass, and Derek had to admit, maybe their night out was a little bit fun.

 **Mole, Quiet, Whisper** (9/5/2018)

Late October is a quiet, magical time in the campus library. Midterms are over, and the impending doom of papers and finals feels far away. Derek should be working, but instead he’s idly trailing through the stacks, fingers whispering along the spines of the Mythology books, cataloging the smell that’s been driving him crazy all semester. He reaches the end of the shelf, stops abruptly. There, in front of the windows, sits a young man, pale skin dappled in gold from the sunlight filtering through the oak leaves outside, cheek and neck decorated in a smattering of moles. It’s him.

 **Mark, Sniff, Forget** (9/7/2018)

You’re the boy who runs with wolves, but tonight you’re flat on your back.

What started as a sniffle graduated to a fever burning you up from the inside out. Time is a paradox, its passing marked by the tell-tale squeak of your bedroom window. Derek’s coming to check on you again. Where does a moody werewolf learn to be a nursemaid?

“Some of my family was human,” he says, softly. Fuck, how could you have forgotten?

“I’m sorry,” you croak. A soothing hand on your forehead, a cool glass of water at your lips lets you know you’re forgiven.

 **Monday, Murder, Redo** (9/10/2018)

Derek’s addicted to a supernatural teen soap opera that airs on Monday nights, and Stiles makes so much fun of him for it. He refuses to miss a single trashy episode, replete with dumbass dialog, ludicrous murder plots and lame love stories. Stiles pokes fun at him until he finds himself invested in this shit show by proxy. Karma’s a bitch.

After the series finale, Derek lets out a long suffering sigh. “I just wasted years of my life. Do you ever wish you could just… redo an entire plot?”

Stiles pats his knee, consolingly. “That’s what fanfiction is for.”

 **Fur, Arm, Tape** (9/12/2018)

“To the left,” Lydia commanded. “Quickly! We have seventeen more posters to tape up before four o’clock!” The ladder tilted precariously as Stiles leaned over.

In a flash, Derek Hale, captain of the baseball team and all-around popular dreamboat, appeared next to Stiles, steadying him. “Careful. You don’t want to be in a neck brace for prom.” Stiles looked into Derek’s green eyes. He may have fantasized about arriving to the dance on Derek’s arm once or twice. Reality couldn’t be further from the truth.

Then Derek said, “By the way, I wanted to ask you something.”

Oh my god.

 **Cotton, Bee, Hay** (9/14/2018)

Deaton sends Stiles into the preserve to live with the reclusive Hale family for the summer, claiming it’s the best way to become an effective emissary. The werewolves have a farming commune in the woods: gardens, chickens, apiary, goats and a horse named Luna.

Stiles spends his days studying plants and shoveling hay, while surreptitiously watching the oldest son, Derek, decked out in a cotton-canvas suit, reach his gloved hands into a beehive. At night, he helps Derek fill mason jars with the golden liquid they harvest from the wax.

By fall, he learns Derek’s lips taste sweeter than honey.

 **Inappropriate, Countryside, Cattle** (9/17/2018)

Derek’s first therapy session is spent glaring at the idyllic countryside paintings hung on the wall; they make him itch to shift and run. The second session he cries, unable to form words.

He’s never been good at talking. This feels impossible. How can he tell the story of a boy who had an inappropriate relationship with a teacher, and led his family to her like cattle to a slaughterhouse?

He starts with the truth.

“I love someone,” he say, thinking about how Stiles is the first person to make him feel in years, “and I want to get better.”

 **Tactic, Revenge, Witch** (9/19/2018)

This year, the debate club was going to beat the pants off the private school team if it was the last thing they did. Stiles, team captain, was at the podium, facing down his nemesis, Derek Hale. Normally nobody could out-talk Stiles, so his defeat by Derek last year still burned.

Stiles had studied Derek’s tactics the whole year. Today, he weaved his words on stage like a witch casting a spell; Derek looked enthralled and slightly turned on.

Whoever said ‘revenge is a dish best served cold’ had obviously never tasted victory over a dude as hot as Derek.

 **Bow, Good, Honest** (9/21/2018)

Allison’s bow is notched, ready to be aimed in a heartbeat. She’s standing between her father and the pack, always straddling two impossible worlds.

Chris is ranting about the code and honesty, calling the werewolves creatures. It’s Stiles who snaps, faster and harder than a wolf’s jaws.

“Fuck you. The only monsters I know burn families alive, and they’re named Argent.”

“He’s right, Dad,” Allison says. “I won’t be part of it.”

After Chris leaves, she watches Derek approach Stiles. “Why did you defend me?”

“You’re a good man,” Stiles says, strong and sure. “I’ll never let anyone forget it.”

 **Owl, Tell, Bury** (9/24/2018) 

Stiles will never tire of this; the muscles of Derek’s neck jumping and dancing when his tongue slides along the salty skin, the clench of Derek’s strong thighs as Stiles buries himself to the hilt inside his slick heat. They’ve made love hundreds (thousands?) of times, know each other’s bodies like the backs of their own hands, but there’s still this moment of awe and wonder for which Stiles will forever be grateful.

He tugs up Derek’s hips, slowly rocking into him. “Tell me,” Stiles whispers, and Derek blinks owlishly up at him. “Please.”

“I love you,” Derek says. “Forever.”

 **Term, Crash, Hurt** (9/26/2018)

The end of term rapidly approaches. When this madness ends, Stiles is crashing in bed for days.

He hurries across campus for his final exam, heavy-hearted because today’s the last time he will see Professor Hale. It’s the bittersweet end of an era.

“I’m officially no longer your student,” Stiles says, handing over his completed exam.

Hale pushes black-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Technically you’re my student until grades post Monday morning. Any chance I could take you to dinner afterwards?”

And that’s the most important lesson Stiles learns in college; some endings hurt, and some are simply new beginnings.

 **Snarl, Fast, Overwhelm** (9/28/2018)

“Welcome to McDonald’s, how can I—OH!”

Patti’s worked fast food for twenty years and seen some crazy shit, but she’s momentarily overwhelmed by the sight of six bruised and bloody teenagers crammed into a sexy Camaro.

“I want fries,” calls the doe-eyed boy sitting shotgun.

“Get twenty happy meals,” screams a blond girl.

“Milkshakes!” A curly-haired guy requests.

“Guys, my mom made pot roast. We can go to my house and eat it,” says an earnest brunette guy in the backseat.

“Shut up,” snarls the handsome driver, turning to Patti with a sharp grin. “I’ll have one black coffee, please.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
